#That’s probably not something you should joke about
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wild child — daniel ricciardo
pairing. platonic!daniel ricciardo x verstappen!f1a driver!fem!reader
summary. your uncle has another thing coming if he thinks you’ll idly sit there and take whatever he throws at you. alternatively, the story of how jos verstappen got his shit rocked by a sixteen-year-old girl. 1.6k
warnings. description of injury, referenced physical violence, themes of domestic and child abuse, mention of jos verstappen
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Daniel watched with a wary smile as you joked around with your Prema teammates across the way. Dino said something that had Ollie covering your ears while jokingly scolding the other boy. You elbowed Ollie in the side and pointed at Kimi, probably complaining that you were less than a year younger than the Italian.
You were acting completely normal. Everything seemed fine and normal and totally cool. You gave no hint that anything was out of the ordinary, that anything was wrong. You smiled just as you always did.
But Daniel couldn’t ignore the swelling of your cheek, the bruise under your eye, the split of your lip.
Prema’s statement about the state of your face had said that you had gotten into a physical altercation that you had not instigated and that the perpetrator had been dealt with as necessary. Daniel had a really bad feeling about who said perpetrator was.
The VCARB driver wet his lips. He had to say something. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t. You needed to know you had people you could go to. You needed to hear it spoken plainly. He needed to extend a hand, whether or not you took it.
This wasn’t something he could sit in regret with. Daniel already regretted never saying anything to Max, never asking the important questions back when Max had still been skinny and ruddy-faced.
Daniel still didn’t know the full story there. He’s sure if he did, he should never be allowed in a room with Jos Verstappen ever again.
Daniel hated to see history repeating itself. He hated seeing Jos look at you like he looked at Max, like you were some prized race horse purpose-bred to win. Like you could win the Formula One World Drivers’ Championship and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Daniel didn’t know everything about Max and his father but he knew how Max acted, knew how he thought of himself, knew how his childhood still affected him today.
Daniel didn’t want that for you. If he could help you in any way, he had to try.
He caught you in Red Bull hospitality later in the weekend, when you were separated from the other Prema kids and eating lunch while scrolling on your phone.
“Y/N/N!” he greeted you with false enthusiasm. “Can I sit with you?”
You just smiled amusedly. “Knock yourself out, Ric.”
You and Daniel had always gotten on.
Before you got serious about racing and moved to Holland to live with your uncle, Daniel had only heard mention of you as Max’s favorite cousin. Starting two years ago, you had been making more and more appearances in the paddock as your relocation to Europe had given Max easy access to take you on field trips to various Grand Prix.
You had been uncharacteristically funny for a fourteen-year-old. Not in a mean or sarcastic way but genuinely funny with jokes and stories always ready to go. Daniel had liked you from the first time you had met.
Now, you were sixteen and you looked so much older but when Daniel looked at you, all he could see was that scrawny fourteen-year-old kid who had to have ten kilos of lead welded to her seat to meet the karting weight requirement.
Every time he looked too hard at the cut on your lip or the persistent redness of your right cheek, he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt that funny, lovable little kid, or the young woman you were becoming who was still so full of life and humor.
“Daniel? You good? Do I have something on my face? Besides the obvious.”
Daniel forced out a laugh. “No. No, you’re fine. I was just wondering… How did you get that shiner?”
“Lost a fight with a revolving door. They’re vicious creatures, I tell ya.”
Daniel didn’t laugh. He barely managed a polite smile.
“Wow, tough crowd—yeah, it was Jos. I know that’s what you’re asking.”
You had always called your uncle that: Jos. Just Jos. Never Uncle Jos. Or Oom Jos, or however it would be said it in Dutch.
Your verbal detachment from your uncle didn’t make it any easier to stomach the thought of the man hitting you. Was this the first time? Had he done it before? How often? How severely? How had no one noticed?
“Y/N,” Daniel started, trying to approach the subject as gently as he originally planned, “You know you have so many people who care about you and would never want to see you kept in an unsafe environment? You have people you can turn to if you need help. Max, me, the people at Prema—“
“Did Max not tell you what happened? I figure he would have told you the story already. It’s pretty hilarious, in hindsight.”
What about this situation could ever be construed as hilarious? Daniel would admit he had a bad habit of making everything into a joke but this was a step too far, even for him.
“Y/N, I’m being serious. If Jos is hurting you, it has to be taken care of.”
“Believe me, I took care of it.”
Daniel just looked at you.
“Max really hasn’t told you?”
“Told me what?”
“So, I made that post about pride month on the first, right? Just ‘happy pride month’ in the caption of my insta post? Well, Jos decided that he wouldn’t have that under his roof and when I called him a ‘homophobic wife beater,’ he slapped me. Backhanded me, actually.”
Daniel was still failing to find even the slightest bit of humor in your story.
“So, I beat the shit out of him.”
Daniel blinked. “You what.”
“I beat the—I don’t know how else you want me to say it.”
“I’m not understanding…”
“He put his hands on me, so I rocked his shit. Kicked him in the dick. Slammed his face into the kitchen counter and broke his nose. Probably bruised a rib or two.
“He’s at home nursing his pride, I’m pretty sure. I’ve been staying with Max in Monaco ever since. It’s a real ‘you should see the other guy’ situation.”
Daniel thought he was having an aneurysm. His brain couldn’t decide if he should continue to insist that you could leave your unsafe home life or if he wanted to feed into the inarguably hilarious mental images of Jos Verstappen getting beat up by a sixteen-year-old girl.
The internal battle must have shown on his face because you said, “You can laugh. It’s pretty funny.”
No. No, he needed to be an adult and not feed into your interpretation of the events being funny. It wasn’t funny that Jos raised a hand to you. It wasn’t funny that you had to defend yourself from a grown man you were meant to be able to trust.
But then Daniel couldn’t stop imagining a semi-cartoonish version of your uncle curled on the ground, blood pouring from his nose as you stand above him, laughing maniacally with a foot on Jos’ side like a big game hunter.
“It’s not funny,” he barely managed to get out before he started laughing along with the triumphant caricature of you in his mind.
The you that sat across from him grinned. “No, it is 100% funny. He obviously didn’t know anything about me whatsoever if he thought I’d just let him get away with that. He started that fight, and I ended it.”
Daniel just laughed harder. You grinned even wider.
“No—it’s not funny! I swear, it’s really not.” Daniel collected himself as best he could, tried to look at you seriously. “Y/N, you can’t keep living with him. He can’t keep managing you.”
“I know. Prema’s already worked it out. They’ve found me a new manager and I’m staying with Max; he’s helping set me up in an apartment in his building.
“My mom is furious. She had to be escorted out of the hospital when she flew in to talk to Jos. She might have broken his nose a second time. I don’t know. I wasn’t there, unfortunately. Jos isn’t allowed within a hundred meters of me until I’m 18.”
That guilty, worried part of Daniel that had started festering as soon as he had read Prema’s statement about your altercation finally laid itself to rest. Everything was handled. You were safe.
“Y/N, I—“
Daniel didn’t really know how to put into words just how relieved he was. He didn’t know how to say how much he cared about you, how glad he was that you had gotten out of what could have been a terrible situation.
“I know.”
Luckily, you understood. Daniel didn’t have to stumble over the words. That was another thing about you that Daniel adored: you were intuitive.
“I’m talking through it with my therapist. But I’ll be fine. I feel fine. I’m not going to let Jos ruin me before my career’s even really started. I’ve still got a season of F1 Academy to win.”
Daniel had a feeling you were telling him this not because you needed someone to talk to but because you knew it was what he needed to hear. Relief settled even further onto his shoulders.
“Spoken like a true Verstappen,” he joked.
“My last name is L/N.”
“You still belong to the Verstappen clan.”
You giggled. “I hail from House Verstappen.”
“Exactly. Just like Game of Thrones.”
You fall into easy laughter alongside Daniel.
You were laughing. Your bruises would fade and you would remain unchanged. You would race later that day and continue leading your championship just as your cousin led his.
Ultimately, you were undamaged. You were safe.
And you also had one hell of a story to write a memoir about in thirty years.
#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo fanfiction#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo imagine#f1#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula one#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#formula one fic#formula 1 fic#formula one fanfic#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#form#jos verstappen’s a+ parenting
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that you let me wear home
paige bueckers x azzi fudd
summary: "who's closet do you think the clothes come from?" - paige bueckers
rated: teen
~760 words
Paige wakes to the sound of stifled laughter and strange music. It repeats over and over in short sequence. She finally opens her eyes, squinting as the light hits them and throwing her arm over them, bumping her glasses into her face.
They had been getting a nap in before their evening plans, and Paige must’ve been even more tired than she had thought because Azzi had woken up and gotten out of bed without her even stirring.
Azzi stands at the side of the bed, giggling as she taps on her phone, which is suspiciously pointed in Paige’s direction.
“Azzi… Whatcha doing?”
“Nothing,” replies Azzi, snickering. But then she turns off her phone and tosses it to the bed, climbing up the bed and astride Paige’s hips.
Paige slides her hands up smooth thighs, head tilting back as Azzi’s lips find her jaw.
“Mmm,” she murmurs as Azzi kisses along her jawline and down her neck, stopping at the base of her neck and sucking lightly.
Paige is so distracted and intoxicated by Azzi’s scent all around her that she almost doesn’t hear the sound of her phone buzzing almost incessantly on the bedside table.
“Wait.” She brings one hand to the back of Azzi’s neck as the other reaches out to grab for her phone.
“Ignore it,” Azzi mutters against her neck, but the buzzing continues. Paige nudges at her a little.
“Baby, that’s too high up, you know I bruise easy.”
As Azzi moves her head away, Paige finally gets a hold of her phone, tilting it to look at the screen. The team group chat is blowing up with texts. The same thing keeps coming through over and over along with their teammates’ jokes and the crying laughing emoji.
“What the hell?” Paige nudges Azzi off of her and onto her side. It’s a video showing her asleep in Azzi’s bed that quickly morphs into some strange animated drawing of a half dressed woman.
“Dude, is this what you were doing? Were you distractin’ me?”
Azzi starts laughing, burying her face in Paige’s neck. Another text comes in.
“You put it on Tiktok?!” Paige sits up.
“Just on my story.”
“Delete it!” She turns and spots Azzi’s phone on the bed, and reaches for it. Azzi catches her hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.
“It’s probably been screen recorded a million times by now.” Azzi replies, giggling, and she’s smiling so hard her dimples are deep in each cheek.
Paige stops trying to grab for the phone, instead running her hands down Azzi’s sides and tickling her until they’re both nearly crying from laughter.
***
Hours later, they’re in Paige’s apartment getting ready to go out for the night. Paige enters her room to find Azzi standing in front of the open closet. She’s dressed already, in a black top that exposes the skin of her arms and belly and tight gray jeans that hug her figure.
Paige comes up behind her, arms encircling her midsection, hands coming to rest on the soft skin of her bare stomach, before she presses a quick kiss to Azzi’s shoulder.
Azzi sighs and Paige feels her body melt into hers.
“You sure you don’t wanna come to the game tonight?”
They’ve spent the entire day together, but Paige doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of spending time with Azzi. She’s still recovering from the near week they just had to spend apart.
“No, you should take Kayla. She’ll enjoy it more than me.” She has plans with their friend Sam anyways.
Paige nods into Azzi’s shoulder. “You outta bring a jacket. It’s raining a bit.”
Azzi turns in Paige’s embrace, Paige’s hands sliding along her waist to rest on the bare skin of her lower back.
“Pick something out for me?” But she doesn’t let Paige move, instead bringing her hands up along Paige’s arms until they’re draped over Paige’s shoulders.
Paige leans in to press a kiss to that dimpled smile. She pulls Azzi closer, about to deepen the kiss when Kayla breezes by the door, knocking on the frame.
“I don’t dare to come in, but you guys better almost be ready or else we’re gonna be late.”
Paige laughs, finally pushing Azzi away and stepping to her closet and pulling out a light pink button up and helping Azzi into it.
“Damn. You always look so good in my clothes.”
“Okay, sweet talker." Azzi gives her a little peck. “I’m gonna head out. Have fun. I love you.”
“Love you.” Paige watches her go and misses her right away.
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A mis-text-derstanding
After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.
That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)
Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.
Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.
‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’
Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…
Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.
‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’
‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’
Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache.
And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.
‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’
Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.
‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’
Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.
‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’
Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.
‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’
‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’
Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.
‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’
The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.
‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’
That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.
‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’
Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.
‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’
The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear.
‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’
With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.
Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.
Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.
‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’
Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.
Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value.
Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.
Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.
‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’
#dc x dp#dp x dc#part one of two#Next part is Tim's side of things#I just love the idea of the chaos this would bring#Danny messages Tim thinking he's Tucker#And Tim messaging Danny thinking he's Jason#The idea was just too funny to me#I'll reblog with part two once I'm happy with it :)#ficlet
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Rambles because I’m just thinking about introducing some of them to your family.
It started with Jason. Because look, this guy in my canon is RICH. He’s your boyfriend but he’s also your sugar daddy and it becomes obvious when you start wearing much nicer clothing and bringing home expensive gifts and eventually you’ll show up to your parent's house wearing a custom made outfit and they’re gonna have questions. So, you pull up with Jason one day when it’s time to introduce him, and he’s wearing what is obviously luxury clothing. He tried to tone it down, but it’s still obviously very luxurious, and his long ass hair is exquisitely done and he probably looks like he could be royalty, and your family is probably expecting him to be snooty and a bit arrogant, but he’s SO NICE?? Jason tries SOOO desperately hard to get your family to like him, so he is on his 100% best behavior possible. He helps set the table, he helps clean up after dinner, he takes an interest in everything your family says, and he’s sociable and sweet (not that he’s not normally like that around you) but it’s a bit of a shock. Needless to say, he makes a fantastic impression.
But then there’s someone like Jeff. He asks you if he should try and hide his scars, but you tell him not to. You’ve explained to your family that he was in a horrible accident and his body has suffered some bad scarring, but they don’t necessarily expect him to show up with a smile cut up on his face and burn scars across his whole body, along with other scars obtained from the job. He’s obviously a nervous wreck, he even tried to dress up, but his speech is pretty rugged and he’s obviously kind of rowdy and anxious, but that comes off as very down to earth. While your family was a bit nervous at first with his size and clumsiness and the concern about his scars, it’s very clear that he cherishes you so much, especially considering he goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable all night. He helps clean up, he even offers to grab everyone drinks throughout the night even though it’s not his house every time he gets one for himself, and once he settles down he starts cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. Despite starting off rough, another successful pass.
And then you have a guy like Tim. Well put together, nicely groomed, and well dressed, AND he shows up with a freshly baked pie. He’s sweet to your family, he offers to help with dinner, and he makes great conversation. Tim is an absolute gentleman and incredibly homey, and he gives off a very charming impression. God forbid you have a relative that loves fishing because my Tim is obsessed with fishing and he will sit there talking about different fish and rods and tackle and fishing spots for literal hours, and he’ll pull out his phone and show off all his photos of fish he’s caught. His fresh baked pie is absolutely loved and he even gives out the recipe and offers to leave them with other recipes as well. He’s well spoken and respectful, and Tim would literally pass any situation with flying colors when you’re introducing him to anyone. He promises that when next he visits he'll bring some fresh caught fish and make a fish fry for everyone to enjoy so they don't have to cook anything, and perhaps another freshly baked dessert.
Then we have dear sweet Toby. He’s an absolute nervous wreck. He’s worried about his Tourette’s bothering someone, he’s worried about saying something stupid, he’s worried that everyone will hate him and that they’ll demand you break up with him, and despite you reassuring him that would not happen, he’s anxious. He puts on his nicest shirt and some new pants, he brings flowers, and he hopes to God that everything will go well. Luckily, it does. The flowers are well received, and with how sweet and respectful he’s clearly trying to be, he’s welcomed in kindly. None of his tics or stuttering bothers anyone, and everyone treats him well, so he starts to relax. His more boyish side comes out, and his excitement is very endearing, and with him constantly asking if he can help out in any way, it’s obvious he cares about making a good impression and being there for you and your family. Yeah, he might have accidentally knocked a few things over and dropped some stuff on accident, but he's quick to clean stuff up and he always apologizes and makes well, and nobody really minds. He’s got a smile on his face pretty much the whole night, and before he knows it they’re already inviting him back again, and Toby didn’t know it could possibly feel this good to be accepted by your family.
Finally, I’m pulling in Slender. Obviously, he goes in his human form, and he goes by a human name, but the guy is classy. He’s very refined, wearing a freshly ironed and well put together business casual outfit. He brings gifts and is gentlemanly right off the bat. Slender is refined and graceful, and he commands the room in a very subtle way, making sure to be kind and not intrude on anything, but also making it quite obvious he’d like to get to know everyone. He makes intelligent conversation and offers assistance, complimenting your family on their home and any food he’s provided. It’s hard not to be charmed by him, with how knowledgeable and alluring he is, and the entire night goes off without a hitch. He asks your family what kinds of things they like, and promises to bring more gifts the next time he visits. He probably discusses things like books, maybe even shows or movies, and says he’ll look into anything recommended to him, and he does, and he also promises to send you home with anything he’s recommended to them as well. He comes off very well, his hundreds of years of age making him appear as what we’d call an old soul, and your family will probably ask you how you found someone like him in the first place.
#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta headcanons#creepypasta x reader#jason the toymaker#jason the toymaker x reader#jason the toymaker headcanon#jason the toymaker headcanons#jeff the killer#jeff the killer headcanon#jeff the killer headcanons#jeff the killer x reader#tim wright x reader#tim wright headcanon#tim wright#tim wright headcanons#masky#masky headcanon#masky x reader#masky headcanons#ticci toby#ticci toby headcanon#ticci toby headcanons#ticci toby x reader#slenderman#slenderman headcanons#slenderman headcanon#slenderman x reader
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Question my lovely Levi fanfic writer
First off: thank you for always feeding me, it’s glorious
Now onto my question: how do you think Levi would react to his S/O giving birth? I know for the time period they were kind of placed it, it could seem odd for men to be in the waiting room, what kind of person do you think Levi would be in the delivery
It’s giving acting like he knows what’s going on to keep his partner confident but definitely mentally freaking the fuck out
Hi! Hi! How are you?
Aww, no, thank you! Thank you for reading and stopping by my inbox to leave some love. <3 I truly appreciate it. <3
Oh, this scenario is one I think about often. I really love the show "Call the Midwife," and it gives a realistic portrayal of what giving birth was like in the past. Indeed, men were rarely allowed inside the delivery room. Typically, if they were brought in, it was because something had gone wrong, and they needed to make a heartbreaking decision between saving the mother or the baby—a terrible practice.
If Levi were forced to wait outside the delivery room, I can just picture him wearing away the marble floors with his pacing. He’d be thinking, "I should be in there," torn apart inside because he could hear her screams but also desperately hoping to hear the healthy cry of his baby and know his wife is safe. Levi isn’t religious, but he might find himself praying that night for a few hours. I imagine him muttering, "I should be doing something," and perhaps a member of the medical staff or Hange, there for moral support, might quip, "Your only job in this whole process was done the night you got her pregnant, shorty."
BUT! Let’s consider another scenario. Levi might take his wife to the hospital or perhaps choose to have the birth at home, as was common back then. When the midwives try to close the door on him, he’d insist, "I’m staying with her."
"Men aren’t allowed."
"And who’s going to stop me?" he’d reply, with that deadpan voice and deathly glare Zeke knows too well. Good luck opposing humanity’s strongest soldier. If he’s allowed in, Levi would stay with her the entire time, especially if she’s scared. He doesn’t want to miss seeing his child born, but his priority is being there for her.
He’d let her crush his hand and curse his name as much as she needs to. What’s the point of his strength if he can’t support his wife? I agree, Levi would pretend everything is "alright" and that he’s "calm," thanks to those Ackerman genes.
But the moment the baby is placed on her chest and starts crying with full lungs, and she seems alright—crying out of confusion and happiness too, probably—Levi would kiss her head, thanking her and praising her hard work. He’d feel his legs shaking, mostly because the situation was completely out of his control. There’s nothing he could do except tell her, "You’re amazing."
He might even feel his hands shaking as he holds the baby in his arms, sitting beside her as she rests. Levi would gently rock the baby, unable to stop marveling, saying, "He’s so tiny… but his hands are perfectly formed. He’s truly a tiny human… and you did all this."
She would hum in agreement, and for once, Levi would be the one saying, "Oi, try to be a bit more enthusiastic. Look how handsome he is… he looks like you."
She might joke, "Because we both look swollen, red, and a disaster?"
"Tch, no. I was going to say he has your nose."
I adore this one! I hope you like it too! Thank you for reading! <3
Stay safe!
Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.
Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345
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#levi ackerman#levi#captain levi#levi aot#snk levi#levi x reader#levi x y/n#aot levi#snk levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackeman#levi attack on titan#captain levi ackerman x you#captain levi x reader#captian levi x reader#captain levi ackerman x y/n#captain levi x you#levi shingeki no kyojin#levi x you#aot#attack on titan#snk#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titans#levi x reader smut#levi ackerman snk#levi ackerman x female!reader#dad levi vibes#dad levi
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Instinct
After putting off feeding to help find the Hyde, your instincts take over as the hunger slowly consumes your mind. But Wednesday is there at just the right moment
Warnings: swearing, blood, injury (the usual)
(apologies for any and all typos)
How long had it been since you last fed? Two weeks? Three? Perhaps a whole month! It seemed that every single time you were reaching for a blood bag, Wednesday would just appear at your side, informing you about a new clue or idea or daft theory.
And every time, you would let her drag you to somewhere new. Whether it were to the woods, or a secret hide out or anywhere else even slightly dangerous.
Now, here you were. Taking step after agonising step as you walk through Jericho. The edges of your eyes tinted red and your fangs aching painfully, begging to be used. Your entire body howled for blood and, every now and then, a growl would crawl up your throat as a person got too close, scaring them away as their heart dared you to bite down. Every time, Wednesday would send you a look, a mix of frustration and curiosity at the sound.
It had been a while since you could properly focus on anything, the usually loud street replaced by a low ringing in your ears as Wednesday took you to the woods. The both of you remained silent, a moment you would assume Wednesday enjoyed, but the cold glances she threw your way said otherwise
“You haven’t muttered an incoherent sentence in more than 2 hours.”
The Raven hair muttered as she examined the burnt down barn you suddenly found yourself in. You shook yourself out of your thoughts, attempting to focus on something other than the sound of her beating heart and the temptation of being within a few metres of her
“Sorry”
You stutters out, sounding almost like a drowned man gasping for air. Wednesday turned swiftly around, glaring at you from across the ruined building.
“Is there a problem with you?”
You couldn’t answer, your dry throat closing with hunger. You managed to shake your head, attempting a smile to hide your pain. You grimaced at the action, if even you knew it was bad then Wednesday certainly knew you were lying as well
“Mon Cher, you do understand I can always see through your pathetic lies. Even during your more vocal attempts.”
She turned away from you, hearing your exasperated sigh and picturing the way your shoulders would fall at the sound.
She could feel the way her heart twisted inside her cold chest as she slowly pieces together the pieces. She glanced a few times in your direction as she continued her search, watching as you stare into space. Iris’s flashing red every so often as you attempted to control you hunger
You could hear the slams of Wednesdays hands on parts of the ruin, the rustling of a plastic bag and her frustrated shouts at you and Thing. But all you could truly focus on, was the steady beat of her heart and try not to lurch forward and sink your fangs into her flesh.
So when it drops, your head snaps in her direction.
“Fuck”
You shout and use your speed to catch the girl before she hits the woodland floor. You lowered yourself to the ground, holding the raven hair as she seized up, body jerking as she witnessed this new vision.
You dug your fangs into your bottom lip, watching as Thing attempted to distract you from how close you were to your girlfriend. Her blood running beneath you fingers. He taps and dances and watches you carefully when the first few raindrops begin to fall.
“Should I leave Thing?”
You ask the hand, pulling your girlfriend slightly closer as you fail to shield her from the rain. The hand taps a reply, always appearing reassuring.
“But I’m a danger right now.”
“And she would help you if you told her.”
He signs. For a body less limb, he was very clever. You sigh, growing accustomed to the increasingly violent storm.
“Anyway, she would probably enjoy the pain.”
He jokes. You chuckle, though the sound you make sounds a little more like a snarl. Thing comes beside you, taking you hand in his. You smile, licking at the blood you had drawn from your lip.
“Thank you.”
His thumb rubs the back of your hand in response, squeezing it firmly but comfortingly. You looked up, focusing on the drops falling against your forehead instead of the Wednesdays Warmth in your arms. Listening to the sound of the wind tearing through the leaves than her beating heart. Which was slowly growing steadier.
Within minutes she shot up, gasping for air, as if she was the one starving. You reach up to place a hand on her shoulder, but hesitate and leave it in your lap instead.
“Are you alright?”
You manage to growl, watching as Wednesdays face shifts from momentary bewilderment to concern reserved only for you.
“Y/n”
She mutters, her hand going to your face before you can protest. In the time she was “out”, your skin had grown far paler, your entire eye had been consumed by a ruby red and black veins trailed trailed up every inch of your exposed flesh. Wednesdays eyes widen, the sight of your exterior giving providing her with the correct conclusion.
“You need to feed”
You snarl, the sound making Wednesday dart to her feet, instinctively backing away from you. Your hungry eyes meet hers, fangs bared as you begin to approach.
“I can get you some blood, there is no need to attack anyone.”
She states, refusing to back away out of stubbornness as you grow closer. You snarl again, allowing you to reach her, standing steady and firm as your hands grasp her shoulders.
“I need- I need a blood bag”
You manage to gasp out, you morality and predatory consciences tearing you in two directions. Wednesday can see the conflict in your eyes, she sees how they plead, burn with rage then soften again. In an endless cycle. Like a broken record
“Bite me”
She says. No. Demands. The two words spoken with such power, that even if you had the strength to, you wouldn’t argue.
You watch as she unbuttons her shirt, pulling the fabric down from her collar to expose her mouth watering flesh. Neither of you have time to think before your left hand grasps the back of her head, tilting it roughly to the side. Your fangs dig into her throat in an instant, wasting no time at all. You can hear her groan as you do so, her head sinking back into your hands secure grip.
You drink deeply, like a half parched drunkard, feeling the weakness vanishes out of your body as the sweet, warm blood flows into our waiting mouth. You haven’t realised, but you’ve pushed the girl up to a tree behind you, pinning her against the trunk. Your other hand leaves her shoulder, nails clawing at the bark as you attempt to steady yourself, trying not to lose control and drain the raven hair completely.
You pull away after a couple of minutes (perhaps a few seconds too long) pressing your head against the raven hairs chest as you calm your instincts. Wednesdays arms wrap around you, pulling you into a rare hug. You press yourself against her, mumbling apologies into the crook of her neck. Feeling your magic hum in her skin as it ties itself together, healing the wound.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
You hum, pulling away to look at her. Your eyes are back to their normal, glowing colour and your face looks as human as possible for a vampire. The sight pulls at the Raven hairs lips, creating the closest she may ever get to a smile.
“Come, now that is concluded, we must go find this monster.”
You step away from her, smiling a little as she stumbles, regains her composure and strides through the woods as if she hadn’t just had a shit load of her blood taken from her. Your about to laugh at the sight before a loud roar echoes through the darkening area. Wednesday turns to you, excitement twinkling in her eyes. You both sprint into the trees, a thrilling mix of fear and joy driving the both of you.
No wonder you made such a good couple
#fanfiction#jenna ortega#vampire#wednesday vampire#wednesday addams fanfic#Wednesday x reader#wednesday x y/n#wednesday x vampire#wednesday x dying reader#Wednesday Addams x reader#Enid Sinclair
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I know we all joke about Charles Rowland having these over-exaggerated people pleasing tendencies, but I just want to say they make a lot of sense for someone who grew up in the hell hole of a home that he did.
(Now's the time to dip if you don't want to read something kind of heavy and also really messy, sorry. CW for mentions of Charles' home life)
The night nurse gave us some insight into what Charles' home life looked like (that, and we can piece together how he must have been feeling from his reactions to the Devlin house). We know he had a volatile, objectively abusive parent. We know he and his mother were terrified of this man, enough that he keeps checking in to try and make sure that his mom is still okay all these years later.
Alright. Still with me?
There's this thing that happens to kids who grow up in households like this (trust me).
Because one parent is so volatile, they learn to model after the other parent who is constantly keeping the peace. They're constantly walking on eggshells, they have to be hyper-vigilant of even slight differences in the atmosphere to prevent a catastrophe. If they have needs or wants, then those needs and wants are not being met. If there are problems (there are) then they are not being talked about (ever, and if they try then all hell breaks loose and there are consequences).
These kids form a facade of "everything is fine, there are no problems and we are happy here". You know, what we would call a people pleaser.
This is Charles. This is very much a survival instinct, it kept him reasonably safe in life (truly, he only died once he deviated from it and "rocked the boat" so to speak).
In all fairness, it has worked out fine for him in death too- Edwin responds well to it. Edwin actually does react very well to Charles' attempts at merry making, deep breathing, even his playful ideas like boardgames and boxing. What he knows works, actually. It works so well he's stuck around for thirty years, so in his mind he probably doesn’t think he should change anything.
The second time he deviated from people pleasing, in all fairness, even when he had to or else he would get separated from Edwin, also didn't work out well. He reacted on genuine, earnest feelings. He was fucking angry when the night nurse showed him his trauma. He was pretty raw when he pushed her over the bridge and into the fish. That was all earnest, uncensored emotion, not a measured act.
Edwin reacted poorly. Everyone reacted poorly. Back to people pleasing.
Charles is really only confused when people pleasing doesn't work. When he reaches out to try and befriend Monty and gets snubbed, I think he's genuinely confused. He can't figure what's wrong. This always works. It always works with Edwin at least. So what's wrong?
That continues on when he's doing everything he'd typically do to engage Edwin while he's reading and it's just... not working (because remember the hyper-vigilance- he knows something is different and so he's unsettled).
This continues onto the roof scene. He knows something is completely and utterly fucked (he just doesn't know it is between Monty and Edwin, or that Crystal’s powers are gone) and he's uncomfortable. In a previous life, he'd be waiting for the other shoe to drop and something to hurt.
He's relieved when Edwin finally starts opening back up a little and trying to talk to him. Yes, he misinterprets what's happening at first (he assumes Edwin is coming out in general, as opposed to trying to tell him he likes him), but things are going back to normal in his mind.
They're reconnecting. He does get a little uneasy because there's still one wall between them (the cat king) that he can't manage, joke, or talk his way out of yet because Edwin hasn't explained yet.
This gets interrupted anyway. (At least there's no more cat bracelet, lol. A win for Charles).
There's more pressing issues, though- he needs to rescue Edwin from hell. He literally cannot be separated from him. Their whole thing has been not being separated from each other since... well since the start. So he keeps his promise, sloughs through the depths of hell, and goes to get him. Easy enough! He disarms the babydoll spider with a bomb, a moltov cocktail, and Edwin's journal. This was probably the least of his problems.
Success. He's got Edwin back. His afterlife is good again. Now things can go on as normal.
Only FUCK! Now Edwin is asking him to express... his... feelings...
-Well. Look how well it went the last time Charles did anything on his own volition. First he died, then he pushed Edwin away. This seems kind of important. He can't fuck this up, but they are literally running out of hell, but he can't fuck this up because that would mean he pushes Edwin away-
He comes up with something that feels close to right, measured, things that Edwin has responded well to before (and under all of that he asks him to stay, please stay, be patient, but it comes out as a declaration because that seems more certain). He cannot lose Edwin here.
They run back up the stairwell together. Charles hopes maybe Edwin understood.
Charles wishes he had better words on the roof. He doesn't, other than to reassure Edwin they're okay-- he would have wanted that. The last time he said anything, it was too extreme. He says nothing and hopes maybe Edwin will give him some sort of clue on what to do again, eventually.
Idk, maybe I'll write more later but... this is so fascinating to me because it's like so obvious as someone who grew up in the absolute tar pit that Charles did. He's not dumb, or making arbitrary choices with what he's doing here. He is doing what he knows works to keep what's important to him close to him. He's just wildly out of his depth when that doesn't work.
#dead boy detectives#meta#charles rowland#payneland#Charles x Edwin#I mean the meta is sort of slanted that direction#oops#anyway#cw domestic abuse#canon event- Charles' homelife#my posts
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pregnant hob definitely thinks he’s just getting fat at first. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so round or why his chest is so tender…but it turns out that’s what happens when you dream about having a family and your husband is the king of dreams…
I really really like the "in denial" trope when it comes to pregnancy. Like. All the signs are there. Everyone is trying to persuade Hob that he must be pregnant, that he should at least try a test! But Hob cheerfully denies it. He's just put on some winter weight. Dream takes such good care of him, he's eating better than he used to. He quite likes his softer figure, thank you very much.
And yes he's been a little more emotional recently, but that doesn't mean anything. No he's not crying, it's just a touch of hay-fever.
When the baby starts moving around so much that the kicking is visible from the outside, Hob is finally forced to confront reality. He's carrying Dream’s child! He breaks down and hides under the duvet in bed for a whole day. Of course he's thrilled about the baby, but he's scared that Dream might be mad at him... its all just a lot to cope with. And he's so round and uncomfortable and now he's got boobs and they hurt...
Dream (who has implicitly known since the child's conception) is just relieved that Hob has come around to accepting the pregnancy! He wraps Hob up in the duvet and carries him out to the sofa (Hob sniffles about being too heavy but then Dream actually lifts up the sofa itself with no trouble so. It's probably fine). He cuddles Hob and rubs his poor aching feet, and kisses his poor stretched belly, and frankly apologises for the whole debacle. Hob appreciates that a lot. And he also apologises for being in denial. Truth is, he really really really wants this little family with Dream. He's scared, but also so in love.
There's still plenty of time to prepare for the baby. And Hob will grow to enjoy showing off his pregnancy as much as possible. (He definitely gets a joke t-shirt that says something like "not pregnant, just fat and happy" to confuse the hell out of people. Dream does NOT laugh... much.)
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𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝? 𝐡𝐢𝐦? 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠
➵ haruka sakura x gn!reader. drabble.
thinking about affectionate boyfriend!haruka.
yes. you read that right. him. the haruka sakura who breaks bones and ribs that can't take a compliment without being a blushing and angry nerve-handling.
the same haruka sakura who the only thing he knew about life was violence and fights, fights and violence. that if he wanted something, he must first see blood spilled, whether it was his own or someone else's.
the same haruka sakura who didn't understand why people were nice to him. he didn't understand why you were nice to him. you. his kind, sweet, charming lover who is unaware of the world's dangers. and that's something people often say about you, something haruka constantly reminded you before. but you tell them, you tell haruka, and you mostly tell to yourself: how can you be aware of something like that? how can you be afraid when it's haruka's hand that holds yours? you can't be afraid knowing that that feeling of being watched emanates from his colorful-loving eyes. he's the one who embraces you from behind while you wait in some line at a random fast food stand. he is the one who looks at everyone present with a cautious look on his face because he doesn't trust anyone there, and definitely no one will lay a hand on you. you bury your face in his neck, you feel his hand caressing your hair and his other hand tracing circles on your back, and then you think: how can i be afraid?
that's why his friends are shocked to see him kissing your forehead after cooking your favorite food. he smiles at you like he has never smiled at anyone or anything in his life. he says "i love you", "i adore you so much" or something similar. you tell him that in return and his smile only grows bigger before he looks at his friends and immediately his smile goes away. it is replaced by a frown and a red color on his cheeks. he curses himself and yells at them for what the hell are they looking. but no, he is not embarrassed. he's not embarrassed anymore…if he was ever embarrassed in the first place.
after all, how could he? is he supposed to move you away every time you put your arms around him? pulling himself away every time you want to kiss him? it's true that those things crossed his mind during the beginning of your relationship, but he never did them. even when you grab his face between your warm hands and kiss all parts of him, feeling the heat of his face and him feeling his heart beat a mile a minute, as well as feeling the people's gazes. his mind tells him to push you, maybe further than he's been pushed. he should yell at you, right? being mad for making this scene in public and making him blush like this.
he does not do it. instead, he finds himself copying your movements and returning your kisses with the same love you give him. you love haruka in such a way that you have made it part of your personality. It's like your greatest achievement in life…and the truth is, it is. every touch on his cheeks, every kiss on his lips, every whisper in his ear leaves him thinking: how can i be afraid? he can't be afraid. not only for his strength, but for you. he is not afraid of people, fights or violence. he stopped being afraid of that trivial stuff a long time ago. deep down in his soul, despite flatly denying it for years, his biggest nightmare was being forever alone. he is not. then, again, how can be afraid? knowing that after the punches and kicks, the wounds and probably broken bones, he has you. he always returns to you as he promised. you made him the person he is now, you know? laughs, casual jokes and freshly made noodles. haruka has (and gives) all that thanks to you. you took every fear and insecurity out of his body, turned it into love and affection, and gave it back to him with a smile on your face.
so, please explain how the hell he could reciprocate everything you give him if it's not with physical affection? either letting his lips take a tour of your angelic face while you sleep or simply resting his forehead against yours as he looks at you with hearts in his eyes. haruka loves you wherever and whenever. he doesn't care if his friends tease him later because he will pretend that nothing happened, even his nervous demeanor might suggest otherwise.
but they can also pretend. like pretending not to have seen haruka sakura make a heart with his fingers towards his lover, whispering a barely audible "I love you, my love".
#sakura haruka x reader#haruka x reader#sakura x reader#male reader#female reader#gender neutral reader#fluff#haruka sakura#sakura haruka#haruka#sakura#haruka sakura x reader#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker
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How You Get the Girl - part 2
Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!
Word Count: 2995.
Part 1
Notes: should I do another part? Would anyone be interested in a part 3?
You make your way to a new Earth, with a quick search you find out that the DEO is still active. Lena works for them and Supergirl doesn’t, which makes way more sense than the other way around.
“Hey, there you are!” One of the agents greets you with a lab coat with your name on it. “Ms. Luthor is waiting for you in lab 3.”
“Oh, I’m not —“ you breathe deep. “Heh, you know what? Whatever. Which way?”
“Lab 3?” He repeats as if you’re supposed to know. Then points in a direction when he draws no reaction from you. “That way.”
“Thanks!” You put on the lab coat that clearly doesn’t belong to you, and follow the direction he pointed to. “Hey Lena!”
“Oh.” Lena says, not looking up from the experiment before her. “Look who is finally on time!”
“No one’s ever complained about my tardiness before.” You complain half to yourself, half to Lena.
“Not to your face.” Her response comes quickly and you roll your eyes to it. "Take your place, please." She looks at the chair and you make your way there.
"So, why do I have a lab coat with my name on it? I'm not a scientist."
"God, no. Thank God, no." Lena says and you roll your eyes at her one more time, unamused. "You're my guinea pig."
"Cute." You already don't think this will be your favorite Lena.
Lena throws one look back at you, then clicks something on her computer. She looks at the cameras and you follow her gaze to see they no longer have a red light on, so that probably means she shut them down. "Did either J'onn or Kara see you coming in?"
"No."
"Does Alex know where you are?"
"I don't think so, no."
"Great." Lena turns around, straddling your lap, and she holds you face with both hands before kissing you so hard, you're almost left with no air inside you.
"Wait, wait." You try while she kisses down your neck, and her hands make way under your shirt. "I'm not your Y/N! I'm not –" Your brain refuses to work while her cold fingers slide on your bare skin. "I'm from a different universe!"
Lena takes her face from the crook of your neck and looks at you in disbelief. "Is this another excuse for us not to make out anymore?" She sounds uninterested. "Are you feeling bad for Alex again?"
"Why would I feel bad for Alex?"
"Because she is your wife?" Comes in the form of a question. Like a duh.
"WHAT!" You push Lena from your lap and stand up in a hurry. "I'm married in this universe and you and I –"
You look disgusted, but Lena just stares at you like she is waiting for your tantrum to be over. "We're horrible people!"
"Ok. Ok. I see what's happening. Alex did something sweet and now you want to break things off and then in a couple of days you're gonna call me again." She sounds nonchalant about it, and you're almost throwing up while hearing it.
"Oh no." You hold back the vomit on your mouth. "Hell no. I can't be stuck in this. I'm gonna get far away from you. You and Y/N from this Earth are both disgusting and messed up. I hope you know this." You take off the lab coat that doesn't belong to you and run so fast, you miss your counterpart walking in the DEO at the exact same time.
You land on a different Earth. It takes you a lot more investigation to find out where Lena is, and it's almost as if she is hiding. But you're a good reporter, you know Lena pretty well, so you manage to find her in a secret lab.
"Hey Lena." You have a smile on your face that soon fades when a gun is pointed to your head.
"You have ten seconds to tell me how you found me here, before I kill you." Lena's expression at you tells you she is not joking. She really means it.
"Shit. Wrong Earth. Wrong Earth." You fumble with your ring and thank God you get out of that place in less than ten seconds.
By the tenth trip it has gotten easier. Find Lena. Check if she doesn't hate you; if one of you is not married; if you two are actually gay; if the thought of you together doesn't make her gag. Explain who you are. Ask for advice. Get out of it empty handed.
Everything becomes a blur, and your memories start to merge the different worlds together. The many Lenas you've met seem so different that none of them resemble your Lena anymore. In fact, the confusion in your mind grows so intense that you begin to forget what your Earth and your Lena truly look like. But you won't quit.
You arrive in yet another world. You've seen it all. Earths where Lena doesn't love you, ones that she is straight, others she is with Kara, and in some you and her are together. Though those weren't exactly helpful. If anything, they added to your confusion and desperation. Are you ever gonna get the girl?
In this reality, Lena is the head of CatCo, making her your boss—a less than ideal situation, to say the least. You drag your sorry ass one more time, to face yet another disappointment, you're sure.
"Y/N!" Lena smiles when you wander into her office. It's late, most employees have left already, but there's a handful of people still preparing to leave. "I thought you had called a day." She looks at her watch. "A couple of hours ago."
You wait, is there a kiss coming your way? Are you going to stop it before it happens this time or are you going to pretend you don't want it to happen after it does? The kiss doesn't come. This Lena is waiting on your response from the exact same place, which probably means you two aren't together in this universe.
You collapse onto her beige couch, letting out a huge sigh. You're so tired of this hopeless crusade. Perhaps you and Lena were never meant to end up together. Maybe the versions of you that actually got the girl are a fluke. Glitches in the system.
"Darling," She comes closer. "are you ok?"
"No. God, no. I'm not ok." You raise your head to see Lena's worried features, while she hovers over you. "Before I say anything, I need to warn you I'm not your Y/N. I'm from another Earth, and this is probably the 15th one that I visited so far. So I'm exhausted and far from ok, and I just want to cry."
Lena blinks. Green eyes framed with dark eyeliner, pink lips slightly open, so confused. Her straight, dark hair falls around her face, and you can't help but to steal a look at her incredibly inappropriate cleavage for show.
"Just call your Y/N if you don't believe me."
"No, I –" She sits next to you, calmly. "I believe you." Lena purses her lips, staring at your watery eyes. "So, how come you want to cry?"
You blink your tears away. "I love you." You breathe out. "Well, not you exactly. But you, from my Earth. But you don't love me back, and I've been everywhere trying to find one universe where it all worked out. Where you didn't love me, but I could – I somehow won you over." The tears are now streaming down your face without your control, and you don't even bother cleaning them. She stares at you with wide eyes. "But what if you and I are never supposed to work? What if Lena is never supposed to love me back?" Your breath shudders and you can't barely get your words out. "What if this is it?"
Lena licks her lips, unable to respond. You're unsure of the endgame here; you're merely using this Lena to finally unload your emotions.
"How do I just bury this feeling so deep down, when it wants nothing but to exist?"
The question falls heavy from your mouth. Loaded with more than heartbreak and it can be felt from the way your words sound. Lena feels it too. Surely, the whole world would be able to feel it.
"You don't." She whispers back and you startle with the sound of her voice. You didn't think she would answer. "Y/N, I –" Lena breathes deep, gathering all of her courage. "I love you too. Well, you know what I mean. But on this Earth, you and Kara are dating."
"Yikes." Not yikes as in gross, but also, yes somewhat. Because you and Kara? That's weird and absurd and like dating a sister. But also yikes, cause you've landed on a universe where Lena loves you but she also didn't get the girl. "I'm sorry. I guess the last thing you needed was me crying on your couch about how much I love you."
She chuckles, looking up to hold back the tears. "God, this is so surreal." She turns to you like she's telling a secret. "I bought this company for you."
"Oh! You did that for Kara in my universe." You give her a watery laugh. "That's so very Lena of you." After a moment's thought, you lean in with a whispered revelation yourself. "I almost killed your brother to defend you. And trust me, I don't kill."
"Yeah, you – you did that for Kara here."
You and Lena fall into a weird silence. You notice from the corner of your eye that a few tears started falling on her face and you make a move to clean it up. She holds her breath to it, and her eyes flutter closed when your thumb brush softly against her skin.
She is not your Lena, but God, do they look the same, sound the same, and even smell the same. She is everything your Lena is, plus one huge difference: she is in love with a Y/N.
"I have an idea." You whisper, not to startle her, then move your finger away.
She doesn't open her eyes to whisper back, "Please, don't say Parent Trap."
"Hey!" You defend yourself earning a heartly laugh from her end. "Parent Trap is always a solid idea."
Lena looks at you fondly, while trying to sound annoyed. "God, Y/N."
"No, that wasn't it." You actually defend yourself this time, and she sits up straighter, looking at you curiously. "I love you and you love me. Sounds like an easy fix."
"No." Her voice comes as if she is talking to a toddler. "I love you from this universe, and you love me from your universe. We're all different individuals."
"Not that different. You knew I could say the Parent Trap idea, you bought a company for someone you love and I almost killed for someone I love." She only blinks at you in utter disbelief. "Oh, come on. You're still Lena! You're absurdly smart, and beautiful. You call me darling, and laugh when I say something silly. And I am still me, I'm –" You can't find the words to describe yourself.
"You're a bright light everywhere you step in. You're the only one that makes me laugh so hard. You're the most charming person I've ever met, and you have terrible ideas and try to pass them off as good." You laugh when she says that.
"What? I don't –"
"You've been to 15 different Earths just to find a way to make your Lena love you, instead of just talking to her about it."
"Yeah, whatever. Like you're so perfect being filthy rich and buying companies as a form of love." She chuckles again and you stare at her with renewed intent. "Come on, it's not that crazy. We can find out the differences between our counterparts, but I doubt there's anything you've done that would make me stop loving you."
"My scientist mind says this is the craziest thing someone has ever told me."
"But the stupid part that made you fall in love with me, says…"
Lena inhales deep, then lets it all out in one breath. "That I'd die for your kiss."
You've kissed many Lenas from different universes. Short and sweet kisses, big and passionate ones, and completely wrong ones as well. You can help that your heart beats almost out of your chest in anticipation for this one. This Lena, she's so much like the one you fell for, but there's an ineffable quality about her, something more. Without even a kiss, you sense that if she isn't the one for you as well, then no other Lena will ever be.
The office is bathed in a soft, dim light. The last employee left a few minutes ago, leaving you both in an oddly calm, private CatCo. You draw Lena's face close to you, feeling her hold her breath in sync with yours.
"What if this is it?" Lena asks and you realize she has different worries than yours. But you know, regardless of the uncertainty – whether this is going to be it, or not – the only way to have the answer is by kissing her.
The moment seems to stand still, as the question reveals to be the answer itself. Time stretched out so thin through the space between your lips. And you smile to yourself as the gap between you two doesn't feel insurmountable anymore.
Lena closes the distance. It feels impossible to believe that you two haven't known each other all your lives, when the dance of your lips and tongues moves in perfect harmony. The kiss is explosive and urgent, as if it has been in the making for years. Breathless, desperate, and exploratory. It's everything, and it's only the start.
You part your lips, staring at her from so close the only thing you can look at is her glossy eyes. "I'll die." She whispers so close to your mouth you're sharing the same breath. "I'll die a little death if I can't have you again."
The floor seems to open under you, as your heart flies to your mouth beating so fast it's ringing loudly in your ears. And you cease to exist in many universes to just exist right here, in this moment.
This is it. This is love. The love you've been jumping around from one universe to another to find. The love you've been dying to have and you know it. You shared one kiss and you are sure of it.
Lena swallows a tear, a question, a whirlwind of thoughts going through her mind as she kisses you again. Then again. And each kiss becomes more passionate, more certain. It's so right it binds you two deeper and stronger at every lip and tongue and breath shared. It can't be undone.
Lena has a million questions and you know that, can see it in her eyes, and God you have them too. How can you erase your histories? Is it as easy as this? As easy as sharing a kiss so right that defying the boundaries of many universes cease to matter?
But you know, God, you know it's just the start. It's the start of a chain reaction that makes your heart feel alive and complete. It doesn't matter anymore if she is your Lena, because she is the Lena.
"How will this even work?" she whispers against your lips, but deep down, you both know—it will work, it must work. Nothing can stop it now.
"I don't know. God, I don't care." You answer between kisses, your breathless words expressing a certainty that defies logic. "I just know it will."
It's many, many kisses later that you both fall into a less desperate silence, tangled up in each other's arms as if this is the 100th time you've found yourselves in this position. You don't have to talk to know you're both thinking the same thing. How will this work?
"I have an idea." Your eyes widen and you untangle yourself from your place on her chest, so you can look into her eyes.
"Here we go again." She jokes lightly, but you know she trusts this idea will be just as good as the last one.
"I've been to one universe where I didn't exist. I don't know what happened to me there. If I was never born or if I'd died. But you existed and Kara was your best friend, and all of you would work in a Tower, and there was this guy Brainy, instead of Winn… Anyways." You stop your ranting when you realize you're getting a little side tracked. "I'm sure there's one Earth out there where both you and I don't exist. We could just –"
"Go to another world and start fresh. No two of you, no two of me. Just you and I making a name for ourselves." Lena completes and you smile at her, happy she understood exactly where you were going with this.
"I mean, you're stupidly smart and I have powers. Surely we can make a life for ourselves anywhere." You stop yourself when an idea crosses your mind. No, not anywhere. You smile. "And I know just where."
"You would do that?" Lena blinks, her question isn't coming from a place of confusion. She knows you would do exactly that and some more. The question is coming from a place of complete adoration.
"I'm dying to believe that you won't be the death of me." She kisses you one more time to be sure. And it's obvious. Every single time it's even more fated.
"What about everyone else on our Earths? Wouldn't we miss them?"
You show her your ring. "Have a portal –"
"Will travel." She completes it.
Yeah. This one. This one is your Lena.
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There’s this unskippable Google AI ad on YouTube where this girl consults the robot about how to cancel dinner plans with the people across the table in the most annoying voice (likely because I have seen this ad now and had to listen to her asinine questions 20 times at least) and this ad, right here, speaks to my frustration around AI:
It disincentivizes critical thinking.
I know the ad is a joke and meant to be lighthearted and I’m only this annoyed because it’s unskippable and irritating af, but every time I see it all I can think is “if you can’t manage enough creativity and critical thinking to come up with your own excuse to cancel on your friends, maybe you shouldn’t have those friends.”
I have a relative who is firmly in the ChatGPT camp and, for example, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to compress a video file and was venting to them about it. They sent me back something I didn’t read from ChatGPT. Meanwhile, I looked up a YouTube video and figured out how to do the rest on my own, and getting the file compressed was immensely satisfying. Far more than mindlessly and thoughtlessly consulting the robot.
“It’s just like a YouTube video!” They’d told me.
No, a real person put time and effort into that video. That robot stole their content without their consent, didn’t credit them, and spat it back out. I used to patronizingly refer to ChatGPT as "the magic conch" and now I can barely do that anymore because that metaphor is becoming all-too real.
While I can understand the barriers it lowers—like if you struggle with writing the robot does it for you, or if you need a piece of art and are too poor, you can generate it for free. Mindless, repetitive tasks that eat up creative juices that can just be automated by a robot, too (even though everyone can tell when a response is canned and artificial and no one appreciates talking to a machine).
If you keep consulting ChatGPT for how to articulate what you want to say, or just straight-up having it do the hard work for you, you’re never going to learn. Yes it’s taken me 8 years to reach the quality and skill of writing I have but as another Tumblr post out there said: The time will pass anyway.
I can’t draw to the skill level that I’d like to. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep practicing until I get there. I thrive off that sense of accomplishment. There’s no little hit of dopamine from typing in a prompt and clicking a button and I certainly don’t appreciate the final product scalped without consequence from real artists.
Or, like when I had to fire a beta reader for flagrant abuse of AI in her work: I can copy-paste my manuscript into ChatGPT, too. I’d paid her for a human response, not garbage feedback that couldn’t understand what I was writing beyond that there were words on the page. I wanted so badly to ask her why she does a job in a creative field if she's just going to have a robot do all the fun parts? I beta read at a great loss of profit because I enjoy beta reading and it's a fiercely competetive market. Surely if she wanted to scam people, she could have done so in so many other ways.
You don't need to know how to pen complex prose in your every day life, but by god, you do need to know how to effectively communicate, contextualize, and argue your perspective and this ridiculous ad joking about cancelling dinner plans sure is funny, until it isn't.
And I know the people who made AI probably did so with the best of intentions but people can be lazy and cheap and we love taking shortcuts to save money and I stand by this: "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."
So. Yeah. This is a writing advice blog and this post has almost nothing to do with it, but that ad annoys me to no end and I had to say something somewhere about it.
Bottom line: Robots were supposed to make the hard jobs, the monotonous jobs, the overcomplicated jobs, the belittling jobs easier, not make us all into pudding-boned Wall-E people. If you want to write, learning is absolutely free - write on the back of your grocery receipts for all I care. If you want to draw, pick up a notebook and pack of pencils from the local dollar store and start drawing.
What you made will always mean more to you than something that didn't cost you time, effort, brain power, or even money to obtain.
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Hello my dear!!
I have had this idea in my head for a while now... Singer!y/n and oscar were together for a short amount of time(in secret, in his f2 career) and they broke up so he could get back together with his ex, but you did a tattoo of him , something sweet like his initials, and then you meet again after 2 years, you are introduced to each other, and he catches your wrist and sees that your tattoo is in a bad place ( you tried to erase it with scratches ) and he feels so gulity?? And breakes up with his gf before confessing to you?
I need the angst, the feels and the smut afterwards
Thanks, byee
Warnings: Angst, uhhh, idk, self harm?
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader
A/N - should I add smut and feels in a part two perhaps 🤔
You’d been struggling for ages, since Oscar left you. No one knew of your relationship, it was private during his F3 days. But still, you loved him do much, so, so much that you even had 81 tattooed small onto your wrist. You remember the day you went to get it done, he’d sat beside you, a proud smile on your face as you watched him, your eyes wide with the pain. “Doing so well, baby,” he’d said. Now? No more of that.
“Hey Y/N!” a mechanic called, recognising you as a singer. “Hey,” you smiled, walking into the garage. You’d met Lando through a mutual friend, and he’d ended up inviting you to the race, to watch. “Hey,” you smiled, seeing the man himself. He was standing by Oscar, who you didn’t recognise, as you stood beside him. “It’s fucking hot, Jesus,” you groaned, the Singapore heat hitting your body like a ton of bricks.
“Couldn’t agree more,” Lando tugged at his shirt, as Oscar watched. He didn’t recognise you either, just surprised to see a pretty girl. Probably one of Lando’s little fuck buddies, Oscar thought. “How’s the singing going?” Lando asked, in an attempt to bring a conversation into this. You assumed that HE assumed that Oscar knew who you were, being a singer and all that.
But nope. “It’s alright,” you shrugged, the heat making you kinda tired as you yawned, your hands coming to stretch back instinctively. “That’s when Oscar saw it. The same tattoo he’d watched his girlfriend get fro him. But it was different now, covered in scratches, bloodied, cut up. Not like before. You saw Oscar staring, making you blink and frown. A bit nosy.
“Show me that ,” he demanded, not a flicker of the nice, polite man people spoke of on TV. You frowned, but did what he said, sticking your wrist out. “Y/N?” he stared at the cut up arm, the nail marks along it, as if you’d tried to pry the ink out of you. “Hi?” you said, confused, as Lando watched, equally as bemused. “Why’d you do this?” and held out your own wrist.
“Dude, I don’t see why it’s your issue,” you said, immediately becoming defensive, “Oscar, mate, drop it, it’s her stuff,” Lando said coolly, prising your hand softly out of Oscar’s. That’s when it hit you. Oscar. “You,” was all you could muster, your eyes wide. He looked the same…but different, so very different. You stumbled back, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” you asked, not thinking about how stupid of a question was.
“I race here,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. You said nothing, still staring. “Okay,” was all you said, turning back Lando. “Why are you here?” Oscar asked, eyes narrowed. “Lando invited me,” you blinked. “Oscar. Mate, calm down, the second you see a remotely pretty girl, you don’t gotta-,” Lando started but Oscar cut him off. “A remotely pretty girl? You mean my ex?” Oscar snapped, rolling his eyes.
“Sorry, what am I missing?” Lando asked, his euds wide at Oscar’s snap. He’d never seen his teammate raise his tone, even in a joking manner, so he was surprised. “Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged it off. “Yeah alright, then,” Oscar snapped, “if it doesn’t matter, I’m going,”.
You didn’t say anything as he spoke. “Oh, and, please don’t go round fucking the whole grid like you’re collecting Pokémon,” he rolled his eyes, “I was enough, don’t start with Lando,”. You didn’t say anything again, his words stinging as Lando watched you sympathetically, watching Oscar walk away, cursing to himself. Wow.
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These Clone Wars headcanons are long overdue
I saw someone say Anakin couldn’t have taught Ashoka everything cause that man’s stiff as a damn board and I laughed my ass off cause they were right but then it got me thinking that this would be a perfect moment for Ahsoka to teach Anakin something
So she gently persuades him and by that I mean she forces him to do some simple stretches in the morning nothing too bad just stuff you’d probably do before gym class and after a while it kinda becomes a pseudo-joined meditation for them
After a while when Anakin started becoming more comfortable with the stretches she started teaching him yoga which he quickly fell in love with cause he found it was one of the few things that calmed him down as traditional meditation should
When Ahsoka stopped being Anakin’s padawan in the cannon timeline or in my delusional timeline where they both left the order and everyone’s happy he had to find something else to call her and for the first couple of months he would always introduce her starting with “my”
The nicknames would usually fall into one of two categories the first being the unhinged nicknames like “my little hell-raiser” or “my little desert storm” and then there are the cute and sappy ones like “my little Soka” or his personal favorite “my little sister”
And with the last one people would ask “Oh is she adopted” and while Anakin could go the normal route and say yes he would instead go his route and look at the person like they’re crazy and say “No why do you ask?”
Which leads me to my next headcanon of you know when people say “If you spend enough time with something you’ll start to resemble it” Well that kinda happens with Obi-Wan Anakin and Ahsoka
In the beginning they all looked as different as a group could look but after a while people started to notice their eyes looked weirdly similar and they held themselves in the same way and their facial expressions mimicked each other and oh my force when did they start looking related?
And this works in their favor later on when they leave cause remember yall they all left and lived happily ever after…
Anyway it works out for them cause when Anakin reiterates “No we’re all siblings” people don’t even think about it they just kinda accept it and move on cause the galaxies in shambles and weirder shit has happened
Even though Ahsoka blames Anakin for crashing everything he’s ever flown it doesn’t truly bother her the risky moves and “fancy flying” become predictable after a while and weirdly comforting
It should concern her that barrel rolls and 90-degree drops are more soothing to her than a trained pilot who flies by the book cause yeah sure the flight is smooth but will the pilot make jokes while they’re being shot down
It is a truly hilarious show of fate that Anakin Skywalker got put in charge of the biggest adrenaline junkie this side of the galaxy and even though they both know this fact neither one of them will mention it
Ahsoka’s just grateful to experience the feeling of a rollercoaster without ever being on one and Anakin’s grateful to finally find someone who just nags him when they freefall instead of screaming at the top of their lungs or puking when they land
Ahsoka will jokingly rat out Anakin to Obi-Wan when he picks on her it’s not uncommon for the older Jedi to hear things like “Master, Anakin keeps floating my sabers to the ceiling” or “Master, I can’t find my headwrap and Anakin’s hiding again can you help me look”
Just funny little tidbits throughout the day and sometimes council members will hear those anecdotes and for some reason they think “Oh she’s willing to rat him out for real” which has led to some council members asking her the bigger questions
Like “Where was your master last night we tried hailing him but he didn’t answer?” and when Ahsoka responds with “Oh he’s been in his room all night tinkering with his arm” they correct her and say that the guards never reported him returning from a late-night excursion
She’ll come up with something like “Oh he left? Well I’m sorry masters I never saw him go and I could have sworn I heard him” which is a lie she told him to say hi to Padme as he left and the only thing she heard that night was her music
But for some strange reason the council decides to believe her cause even though she’s Anakin’s padawan she has a strangely trustworthy face and has a wrap sheet of throwing him under the bus in the past
Little do they know she wouldn’t sell him out for real and Anakin pays loyal people generously and by that I mean baked goods and boba and her favorite movie being played while they eat dinner
I don't know what it is about Anakin that gives me morning-person vibes but he just does now I’m not saying he’s like super bubbly in the morning but being up at five am when no one else is around just soothes him for some reason
This however doesn’t stop him from staying up late to work on some projects or having a movie marathon with Ahsoka it just means those things are infrequent
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka on the other hand feel like night owls to me the duo has so much going on throughout the day and while they’re both extroverts at heart nighttime is when they really unwind and get to relax
All this to say it’s very funny imagining the normally broody Anakin smiling serenely at six in the morning barely needing a cup of caf while the normally happy duo of Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are reduced to grumbling grumpy messes that are death-gripping their cups of caf
The Jedi don’t say “I love you” at least not in the normal way that everyone else does instead he makes snacks for his padawan while she frantically studies for a test that she forgot about or they say things like “Hey master I think I figured out why your prosthetic keeps locking up”
Or one of them discovers his favorite tea in his cupboard after the younger two come back from a mission but he knows they were stationed three star systems away from where the tea is normally sold
Or the younger coming home from the same mission to find that all the chores they couldn’t do were taken care of
You know the minuscule things that most people wouldn’t bat an eye at but to each other mean the world
#star wars#the clone wars#star wars clone wars#star wars headcanons#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#obi wan kenobi#padmé amidala#snips and skyguy#sorry these took forever#I got thrown a million curveballs in the past two weeks#just some normal drama here and there#school starting soon and me getting a new job all kinda hit me on the face and didn't let me get up until like yesterday#I'm just really happy and grateful for my support systems right now#but all this to say sorry for the wait and enjoy the sappy shit
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Saying Something Stupid
I am loving all the Morph's First Pride art that I've been seeing! I am so glad that I am not the only one that has discovered a love for them and this pairing! I can't wait to see more of all you guys' amazing artworks! Xxxxxxx
Ao3
FF.net
"I know it was you."
Morph froze. Between trying to stay alive in that hellscape of a future, taming a feral Wolverine and having to defeat Sinister, again, they'd pushed that moment on Asteroid M to the back of their mind. A part of them had hoped they would never need to think about that moment again. But, as usual, life hadn't worked out in their favour.
"Listen, I'm sorry for eating all your breakfast muffins, but in my defence you were only eating raw meat for a while and they would have gone bad if I hadn't so-"
"Cut the shit Morph." Logan snapped. "We both know that ain't what I'm talking about."
Fuck. Morph was going to be sick. They could feel their stomach literally churning and Morph had never thrown up their own gloop before but they guessed they were about to find out and oh god why were they still making jokes even in their head and-
"Hey! Look at me!" Morph hadn't realised that they had begun glooping until Logan grabbed their arms and neatly squeezed through them. This close, Morph had no choice but to stare at Logan's face to see that the creases of his brow and the sharp squint of his eyes.
They were going to die. Logan was going to kill him. They wished he would.
"I-I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't have done it!" Morph cried. "But you were dying and I-I had to help!"
"That the only reason?" Logan asked and Morph usually prided themselves on the being able to read The Wolverine better than anyone, but for once they had no idea what the expression on his face meant.
Not that it mattered. Logan had been through so much shit since Asteroid M. The fact that he was still sane enough to ask was a miracle. After all that, the least he deserved was the truth.
Morph took a deep shuddering breath.
"No." They confessed, closing their eyes as soon as they did so that they wouldn't have to see the disgust on Logan's face. They had accepted a long time ago that Logan did not love them back. Which was fine. It would have to be. Because they were more than happy to be his friend, his best bud. Even though now, Logan probably never wanted to look at them again let alone be their friend or-
Someone was kissing them. Someone with a stubbled chin, bristled sideburns and slightly too sharp teeth.
Morph opened their eyes. It was Logan. Logan was kissing them. Which, it had to have been, it couldn't have been anyone else. Except at the same time it couldn't possibly be him. Because that didn't make any sense. Logan should hate them right now.
It had to have been a trick. Some cruel hallucination invented by Sinister to create the image of everything they'd ever wanted only to have it ripped away from them.
Then Logan pulled away and Morph was waiting for the big reveal except it never came and then seemingly unaware of their complete mental shutdown Logan started talking.
"I ain't good with words. And I'm still a bit fucked in the head and I've got my own shit to work through." Logan stated. "But, you're still the only one who can make me laugh. The only one who's always been there for me. Who's seen who I am and wants me anyway. So if you want, then I'm willin' to give this a try."
For once Morph was completely speechless. This was not happening. Even Sinister wouldn't be this cruel.
"If this is all some big joke I swear I-"
"Sydney." Logan breathed and Morph themselves forgot how to breath, as Logan moved his hands from their arms to cup their cheeks. "I would never hurt you."
"I can't believe this is happening." Morph admitted, their voice barely more than a whisper.
"What if I did this?" Logan then pulled them closer until once again his lips brushed against theirs. It was softer than the last kiss, which had been a frantic push of mouth and teeth, compared to the now gentle nudge of Logan's lips. This time, Morph allowed themselves to kiss back. Slowly they parted their lips and Logan didn't hesitate to open his in return. They tentatively traced their tongue along the lower length of Logan's teeth. The Wolverine gasped a growl that vibrated through Morph's body straight to their gut.
They needed to hear that sound again. They needed to make Logan make that sound again.
So they swirled their tongue along the tips of his canines which tasted of beer and breakfast and blood and it was beautiful. More than Morph could ever had imagined. Logan growled again, pulling them closer, hungrily deepening the kiss until he was practically devouring them.
Despite the pairs mutant powers, they both still needed to breath. So reluctantly they broke apart to gasp for air.
"Believe me now?" Logan panted through a smug smirk.
"I don't know." Morph teased, looping their arms around the back of his neck. "I think I might need some more convincing."
Logan didn't any other invitation before he pounced.
#morpherine#x men 97#x men#wolverine#morph#kevin sydney#logan howlett#james logan howlett#morph x men#logan x men#morph x wolverine#morph x logan
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Half of my heart
Buddietommy, E, 24,485 words
Falling in love with his boyfriend? Easy. Easier than breathing. Buck can do it in his sleep. Hold his beer, he's got this, more than someone his age probably should. Falling out of love with his best friend? Not so much.
Lucky for Buck, he finds two people who will love him anyway.
Photo edits by the inimitable @indibdraws
Chapter 1 below the cut
In the end, it was easy to fall in love with Tommy.
Buck knew that he had a tendency to fall hard, and fast, for women—for people—who didn’t always want him back. He’d stay, waiting for that someone to see him, to want him back, to just be good enough for them, and he’d try so hard to make himself into something they wanted. Inevitably it wouldn’t work and Buck would be left alone with another broken heart and more cracks in his soul.
Those first few weeks with Tommy, Buck barely slept, and not for any fun sexy bedroom reasons. Well, not for only fun sexy bedroom reasons. Thanks to therapy and ‘growing up’ and having people in his life who actually cared about him, Buck had developed a smidgen of self-esteem and was trying to protect his heart, just a little bit, against the tempting gravitational pull of Tommy. More often than not, Buck would lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling or, for a change of scenery, the back of his eyelids, and let his head and heart wage war inside of him. Very ‘keep your distance and don’t scare him off or overinvest at the three week mark’ versus ‘no one has ever looked at you like that before and he laughs at every awful awkward joke you make’ sort of war. Occasionally his heart tried to gang up on his head by calling in the unfair reinforcements of his dick, who made a shallow yet still very compelling argument in favour of Tommy and everything the man could offer. (His hands were big and yes, so was the rest of him, and it turned out that that’s something Buck version whatever he’s up to, he’s lost track, is very into, thanks.)
It might have taken Buck a couple of weeks of unsuccessful worrying in a circle about himself before he decided if he was worth it—and if Tommy was worth it—then he’d need reinforcements outside of his own admittedly questionable perspective. Unravelling that involved some beers and some more therapy and poor Maddie learning way more than she probably ever needed to know about him, which then turned into long brunch catchups with Josh, much to Maddie’s relief.
In something very new for Buck, he even talked to Tommy about it. Some of it, anyway. He warned the guy (who was turning out to be an incredible guy) that he was damaged goods and brought enough baggage for a whole circus, and Tommy had given him a sad kind of smile and said to Buck You think I’m coming into this light as a feather?
It was enough to nudge Tommy off the pedestal Buck was building for him, and it was the best thing that ever happened. Tommy was better than some perfect being that Buck would throw himself off a roof for just to get some attention; Tommy was real. Beautiful and flawed and kind and imperfect, and didn’t hold Buck to any kind of impossible standards that Buck might have been putting on himself so that Tommy would stay. Buck was allowed to fall down sometimes because Tommy would be there to help him up. Much to Buck’s jaw-dropping surprise, Tommy fell down sometimes, too, and Buck was finding out what an incredible honour it was to be trusted to help someone get back up.
In the end, it was easy to fall in love with Tommy.
Buck thought it was perfectly logical that, like a seesaw, the more he loved Tommy like that, the less he’d think of Eddie like that.
Unfortunately for Buck, his heart didn’t seem to give a flying fuck about logic.
Read the rest on ao3
#bucktommy#buddietommy#911 abc#911 fox#evan buckley#tommy kinard#eddie diaz#ot3#fanfic#fic#evan buckley x tommy kinard x eddie diaz
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Heyyy, totally random question, but does anyone know any resources on how to write characters who are amputees?
Thinking of Arcanth's setting. Been rotating in my brain this one character who's lost a hand at wrist or a little above few years prior to story. So it's not a fresh injury, but still something that's been acquired, not born with.
Google mostly gives me results on how to come to terms with a fresh loss, yet this character has supposedly done that part alredy. They are the sort of person who would joke about it, but I don't want it to be just jokes, you know.
Would they ever forget? Like trying to catch something with a hand that no longer exist? Any feelings, emotional or physical, like sensations and such I should be aware of? Forearm probably changes shape slightly when the finger muscles no longer have fingers to move. Any day to day normal life details one might not think about that not having a hand would affect?
Any help?
#Arcanth#for tagging purposes#I may or may not be using this character stuff to avoid thinking of the clothing design stuff#(I absolutely am procrastinating the clothing design stuff with this character design stuff)#it's easier to write the high drama of losing a limb traumatically#but what about the silent part of living with an old one?
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